


Second Saturday

by Kizmet



Series: Tear Me Down [7]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Backstory, Established Relationship, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizmet/pseuds/Kizmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wait,” Rin said.  “Dad would have known better than to make an open-ended deal with a demon, even you.”  How Mephisto and Shiro’s standing date got started.  It’s not completely a PWP… There’s a smidge of plot mixed in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Saturday

_“Wait,” Rin said. “Dad would have known better than to make an open-ended deal with a demon, even you.”_

_“Well, let’s just say…”_

* * *

Mephisto watched with amusement as the twenty-year-old Doctor-Dragoon knocked back a shot then added the glass to the row on the bar. “You need to get out in the field more, ‘Phisto,” the blond declared. 

“Am I to take that as sarcasm?” Mephisto asked. “If so it’s a rather poor example. You’ve been complaining about your last mission since arriving at my office.”

“The whole reason the mission was screwed from the get-go was goddamn office politics sneaking into the field,” Shiro declared passionately. “You gotta get out while you can. Dealing with bureaucracy all day long will rot your brain.”

“You’re certain you wish to test for your Aria next, not Knight?” Mephisto asked lightly.

“Two birds my friend, two birds,” Shiro insisted. “I organized the classes for my Master of Divinity to compliment my Aria studies for the next couple of years. Then I’ll get the Knight the last year before I’m ordained and figure out how to manage a Tamer without having any natural aptitude last.”

Mephisto wrinkled his nose distastefully, “I haven’t managed to talk you out of the priest thing yet?” 

“Exorcists are priests,” Shiro replied firmly. “Yeah, yeah, I know they don’t have to be. Now anyway. But I’ve had a spirit wound since I was four and all I knew about exorcists I learned from the movies. Since before I could read I was going to be a priest, an exorcist, so I could do something about the stuff I saw.”

Mephisto let the subject drop. “What are we celebrating?” he asked.

Shiro thought for several minutes while he finished off another drink. “Well, certainly not the that fuck up of a mission. So, it’s Saturday night, tomorrow all I’ve got to do is roll out of bed and pretend to be awake for a few hours. That sounds like a reason to celebrate to me.”

“A shocking attitude for a would-be-priest,” Mephisto tsked. Then he ordered the next round of drinks for the both of them.

An hour later a chill breeze invaded the bar heralding the arrival of two more exorcist patrons. “Let’s go over and say hi,” Shiro declared when he recognized the taller of the two as one of his fellow Aria-candidates. Like Shiro the man had already passed the Exorcist Exam and was returning for an additional Meister.

“You despise him,” Mephisto pointed out with a smile.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Shiro was already off his barstool, swaying slightly as he headed toward the door.

Mephisto tossed back his drink then, after a moments’ consideration, finished Shiro’s as well. He dropped enough cash on the bar to cover their tab and turned around just in time to see a broadly smiling Shiro punch the other exorcist in the face. Blood spurted and Mephisto winced theatrically at the sound of crunching cartlidge. The tall exorcist clutched his bleeding nose and lunged for Shiro while his friend blinked in shock at the sudden turn of events. The bouncer ran to intervene. Mephisto collected his great coat and Shiro’s leather jacket from the coat room. Shiro ducked around the bouncer and slammed the heel of his palm into the other man’s solar plexus. The man’s friend finally got over his surprise and moved to intervene. Mephisto threaded his way through the crowd. Shiro laid out the friend with a roundhouse kick. Mephisto casually leaned up against the door frame to watch the rest of the show. Shiro twisted free of the bouncer’s grasp to land an uppercut that sent teeth flying. Mephisto counted three small tings as the teeth hit the floor seconds after their former owner did. Shiro calmly allowed the bouncer to twist his arm behind his back and forcibly escort him to the door. Mephisto smooth exchanged custody of Shiro for a slip of paper before the bouncer quite realized what had happened. “Their home address. The cab will arrive before they regain their senses,” he said and swept out the door with Shiro.

“That felt great,” Shiro announced loudly before the door slammed shut behind them.

“So?” Mephisto asked. He kept hold of Shiro’s elbow as they walked down the street to ensure that the intoxicated human wouldn’t stumble into traffic.

Shiro shrugged. “He was on my team for today’s mission, reminded me that I hate how he treats his familiar.”

“Even though it’s a demon just like those you kill?” Mephisto asked.

“You’re a demon,” Shiro replied leaning more heavily into Mephisto’s supporting hand.

“So I am.”

“We should do this more,” Shiro announced.

“I think there are still several bars in Cologne that we, YOU, haven’t been banned from,” Mephisto replied.

“Naw, I’ve had plenty for tonight,” Shiro said. “Damn German, what’s the word? I meant um, regularly.”

“I’ll take that as a promise,” Mephisto said, his gaze sharpening even as he kept his tone careless. “You and I should regularly go out drinking, every second Saturday of the month let us say… I’ll leave the part about bar fights and getting thrown out by the bouncer to you discretion.”

“Yep, I can take care of that as called for,” Shiro laughed.

“You are very drunk,” Mephisto chuckled. “I’d best see you back to your dorm.”

Shiro smiled. “Sounds like a plan,” he said and let Mephisto steer him toward the campus. When they reached the outside building door he caught Mephisto’s wrist. “Wanna try persuading me again?”

“And scandalize all your fellow seminary students?” Mephisto asked.

“Won’t hurt ‘em any,” Shiro replied.

“True,” Mephisto said, “but I do abhor that ridiculous cot masquerading as a bed in your room.” He retrieved a key ring from his waist coat. 

“Spoiled,” Shiro chuckled.

When Mephisto opened the door with his key it no longer lead to the dorm hallway but to Mephisto’s bedroom.

Shiro automatically toed off his shoes as he passed through the doors. “New hobby?” he asked glancing at the disco ball on the ceiling.

“Ah, Disco: Garish clothes, sparkly lights and a hedonistic subculture, I do so adore human fads,” Mephisto said dropping his coat on a chair.

“I’ll let you take me dancing sometime,” Shiro said. The door to the street swung shut behind them.

“I thought I was taking you dancing tonight,” Mephisto replied suggestively.

“And I thought you brought me here to fuck.”

“So crude.”

Shiro hummed in agreement as he tangled his hands in Mephisto’s hair. “I should be wary of you but…” He tilted Mephisto’s head to the side and claimed his mouth. 

Shiro’s mouth tasted of fire and smoke, whiskey and tobacco. And beneath that flavoring he tasted familiar. Mephisto’s head spun, more affected by the familiarity than by all the alcohol in the world. “Beloved,” he whispered. In the light of day he would never confuse one incarnation with another but in bed Shiro bled into Richard, Richard into Othniel, and Othniel into Leander.

“But the first moment I saw you,” Shiro whispered as he walked Mephisto backward. “It was like I’d known you forever.” Mephisto swallowed. For a moment the smell of gunpowder clinging to Shiro’s skin seemed to fade and the leather and metal smells could have been the lingering scent of chainmail. Older still, the wind whistling outside of Mephisto’s penthouse apartment could have the same wind as had swayed the towering Temple of Atlantis.

Mephisto felt the bed against the back of his calves then he was toppling backward, pulling Shiro down with him. Shiro caught himself on knees and elbows, Mephisto pinned beneath him. Mephisto stretched sensuously as Shiro attacked the buttons on his shirt. He couldn’t keep from chuckling a few moments later as Shiro start swearing at him and the very long line of tiny buttons securing his dress-shirt. Mephisto could have stopped time or warped space and dealt with the clothing issue in the space between one heartbeat and the next. He could have frozen time forever, held on to this moment until the end of time. Instead he arced up into Shiro’s hands, enjoying the silken feel of the material sliding over his skin under Shiro’s touch, incidentally making it that much harder for Shiro to get the buttons undone.

Shiro leaned down, he pressed Mephisto down into the mattress, letting him take his full weight. He locked their mouths together and kissed the lanky demon breathless, only pulling back when Mephisto went pliant beneath him. Shiro gave Mephisto a self-satisfied smirk as he started in on the buttons again. 

Mephisto stared up with sultry half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the sight of Shiro’s tanned hands against his own ivory skin as the shirt slowly surrendered the fight. He lifted when Shiro got to his pants, letting him slip them down his hips. 

Shiro sat back to kneel on the end of the bed while Mephisto sprawled across the sheets like an indolent cat demanding attention. Shiro pulled his sweater over his head and shoved his trousers down. Tossing his clothes on the floor he pulled Mephisto into his arms. He swept the demon’s purple hair aside to gnaw lightly on the column of his neck. Mephisto tilted his head to the side offering better access and felt Shiro grin against his skin. 

Shiro lightly traced the faint impressions of ancient scars that crisscrossed Mephisto’s chest, memories of injuries much, much older than the body that wore them. Mephisto squirmed at the barely there touches running up and down the length of him. 

Mephisto’s tail, trapped uncomfortably between their bodies, wriggled to get free. Shiro gasped at the feel of the extra appendage writhing against him. “Fuck, that surprises me every time.”

“No distractions,” Mephisto pouted.

“You’re still the center of my attention,” Shiro pointed out.

“Naturally. Now get busy pleasuring me.”

“Bossy, bossy,” Shiro pinched one of Mephisto’s nipples teasingly. The demon groaned and let his head fall back against Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro took his reaction as invitation. He twined their legs together, shifting Mephisto to sprawl over him, legs splayed open, everything accessible to exploration. 

“Damn, I love touching you,” Shiro murmured. Given over to pleasure, Mephisto was shamelessly responsive, pushing into Shiro’s touch and vocal. He was pale, silken skin over lean, hard muscle. And Shiro wasn’t the only one who trusted more easily than reason could explain. In his head Mephisto knew that he’d only known Shiro for two years but his heart told him this was his lover of centuries returned to him at last. He let Shiro explore him until he was breathless with anticipation and whining impatiently when Shiro finally gave in and rolled them over.

For a long moment Shiro remained propped up on his elbows, staring down at Mephisto pinned beneath him. “I still can’t believe you let me do this to you.”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned being the Hell King Samael if I’d known what a fuss you’d make over it,” Mephisto lied as he stretched up to capture Shiro’s lips. Immediately Shiro responded, pressing him back into the pillows, plunging his tongue into his lover’s eager mouth. After several minutes of kissing, Shiro slid down Mephisto’s body, licking and nipping the area his earlier caresses had sensitized.

His control slipping, Mephisto’s sinuous tail curled itself around Shiro’s thigh. He was pleased when Shiro simply ignored it. His tail was too sensitive, too vulnerable for him to take pleasure from having anyone handle it. He gasped and arched backward when Shiro’s mouth finally found his hardened length. 

When Shiro pulled away a few minutes later leaving him to shiver as the night air cooled his sweat and saliva damp skin Mephisto opened his eyes, his face set in a pout. Shiro was staring into the depths of the nightstand beside the bed looking bemused. “Why are there a bunch of tiny Bariyon demons in here?” he asked.

“Oh, So that’s where my pet rock got to. I thought she was looking pregnant,” Mephisto replied. “I’m certain an Exorcist of your caliber can get past a few newborn Bariyon and get the lube… Immediately.”

“First tell me why the hell you have a Bariyon for a pet rock?”

“The ones in the store where amazingly boring,” Mephisto explained impatiently, “almost as boring as this conversation. The shopkeeper assured me that they’re all the rage but they just sit there and do nothing. So I found a better one. Now, hurry up over there!”

“That they don’t do anything is the whole point of them,” Shiro said dryly. He pulled the drawer out and up-ended it on the floor rather than risking his his fingers reaching inside. After kicking the Bariyon under the bed he retrieved the lube. 

“Took you long enough,” Mephisto whined.

“Find a better place to breed your pet rocks,” Shiro replied unrepentantly. He thrust two slicked fingers into Mephisto as he swallowed him back down and Mephisto’s complaints dissolved into moans. He twisted his fingers into the sheets and loudly demanded more. When he came Shiro slid back up his body, folding his knees up and taking him while his post-orgasmic haze was strong. Then stopped just to stare at his lover, trying to memorize the way Mephisto looked with calculations set aside, as open as he was capable of being.

Languidly Mephisto curled a hand around the back of Shiro’s neck and pulled him down into an open mouthed kiss. Then Shiro began to move within him, slow deliberate strokes that kept the glazed sensation drunk expression present in Mephisto’s emerald green eyes. When he came Shiro held Mephisto tight against him, shuddering, biting into his shoulder.

They lay together silently for several minutes, allowing their bodies to cool before Shiro reached for the coverlet. “Reconsidering the priest thing yet?” Mephisto asked.

Shiro shook his hand and kissed Mephisto’s bare shoulder fondly. “You’re the original libertine, don’t worry, you’ll be bored with me long before I finish school. So in a few years I’ll take my vows with a concrete knowledge of what I’m giving up-”

“And no regrets?” Mephisto asked.

“Not enough to stop me.”

“Would it change anything if I said I wouldn’t tire of you in a dozen lifetimes?”

“Not even if you promised,” Shiro replied. “I don’t _want_ to change you.”

“It would change nothing. You are endlessly fascinating to me,” Mephisto said but he could see from Shiro’s smile that, as much as he liked hearing it, he didn’t believe a word.

Later, long after Shiro had fallen asleep, Mephisto liberated a cigarette from Shiro’s coat pocket and conjured a flame to light it. “A victim of my own success,” he continued their discussion to himself. “Even when I tell the simple truth you hear only lies. Ahh well, I know already that happiness held too tightly sours.”

“I wouldn’t change you either… Even if you always seem to have an ambition that I can’t eclipse.”

* * *

**Seven years later**

Shiro crumpled the paper in front of him and tossed it over his shoulder to land in an already overflowing trash can. Then he sighed and tapped his pencil on the fresh sheet before him. “How the hell did I forget the public speaking part of being a priest?” the twenty-seven year-old muttered to himself. “Stupid Bishop, I’m an Upper First Class Exorcist, not to mention an Arc Knight! I should be out in the field fighting demons, not writing homilies. But no, he says I have to administer Mass this week.”

“Fuck! I’m not cut out for this! He should know that. Wasn’t he just lecturing me about swearing in front of parishioners? Now he wants me to stand up in front of the whole congregation and talk? What the hell does he think is going to happen?” In the back of his mind Shiro knew he was forgetting something but it was ten hours and counting to his first sermon and he didn’t have a clue as to what he was going to say.

Four hours later, very, very early Sunday morning, Shiro’s waste basket was completely buried and he still didn’t have a sermon written. “At least I’m not taking confession this week. I swear, I’m going to crack up laughing if ‘Phisto shows up again. That wasn’t a fucking confession… And it wasn’t reminiscing about our sex life either! I wish I remembered half of what he was going on about. Shameless demon-”

“Mephisto,” Shiro repeated in a sickly tone. His eyes were drawn almost against his will to the calendar on his wall. His face turned dead white. He took a shaky breath. For a long time he sat staring blankly into the distance. Then he picked up his pencil and started writing. “Better make the sermon worth it,” he muttered. “‘Cause I’m already fucked.”

After Mass was done that Sunday, Shiro took out a key and inserted it into his office door. When he opened the door Mephisto’s sitting room was on the other side. The purple haired demon was sitting in a chair by the fire, he didn’t acknowledge Shiro’s entrance. 

Shiro walked in and stood in the center of the room. “I missed our date,” he said and waited.

Mephisto picked up a full glass from the table beside his chair as he stood. “Drink this and we’ll call it even.”

Shiro swallowed nervously as he accepted the glass. He shut his eyes and knocked it back. When the liquid hit his tongue his face twisted with disgust then disbelief as he recognized the taste. 

Mephisto doubled over laughing, “Did you think it was poison?” he asked. 

“Near enough!” Shiro exclaimed wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “That stuff is foul!” Then after a moment he asked more quietly. “That’s really it?”

“I said so didn’t I?” Mephisto replied. “If you miss our standing date you have to take a shot of practically the only alcohol you can’t stand to drink. Although I will ask you for a more seriously given promise this time: If you cannot make our date you will come to me at the next available opportunity for your punishment. Don’t ever make me come for you.”

“Or else what?” Shiro asked, automatically sliding into exorcist-mode.

The look Mephisto gave him in return was both hurt and angry. “Or else I will hurt you.”

Shiro covered Mephisto’s hand with his own. “Sorry,” he said. “I had no call to ask that.”

“Not when you’d already put yourself at my mercy?” 

“Not when I broke a promise to you and you were forgiving.”

“I’ve always know your priorities,” Mephisto replied chastely pressing a kiss to Shiro’s temple. “And it hasn’t changed how I feel about you yet.”

* * *

_“Well, let’s just say… A copious amount of alcohol was involved and leave it at that.” Mephisto suggested._

**Author's Note:**

> Shiro isn’t much older than Rin at this point, but where Rin and Izumo are still working out what they want from a relationship and trying to get on the same page with their expectations before they go too far- Well, Shiro and Mephisto both have a clear understanding of the terms of their relationship and even if Shiro doesn’t really believe that Mephisto wants more, Mephisto was willing to accept Shiro’s conditions.
> 
> I realize I’m about a decade off making Shiro twenty in the seventies, but Disco, pet rocks and Mephisto seemed like a good fit, so the timeline is flexible.
> 
> Shiro and Leander (Greek, because I can’t seem to find any Atlantean names ) both mean “Lion man”, Otheniel (Hebrew) is Lion of God and I’m thinking of a specific Richard… The Lionheart.


End file.
